In silence, the shadows sway. Gentle movements, echoes of forgotten songs.
Ink spills slowly across the pages of the unwritten book, prose of absence.
Whispers of wind carry notes that linger in the air, melodies lost to daylight.
Lost among the murmurs, reflections cast upon rippling surfaces.
A dance between light and absence, shadows trace the contours of unseen paths.
Once there was a song, now just a wisp haunting the twilight.